


Killing Grounds

by Caladenia



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Adventure, Amnesia, Aphasia, Episode: s02e26 Basics Part 1, Episode: s02e27 Basics Part 2, OCs - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-26
Updated: 2017-10-21
Packaged: 2019-01-05 15:10:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12192324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caladenia/pseuds/Caladenia
Summary: A 'Basics' AU. Voyager’s crew was stranded on the Hanon planet for a long time before their ship came back. Some lost more than others to the harsh conditions.





	1. Taken

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Mia Cooper for her keen eyes and support.

Dark trunks lined the banks like sentinels, their silhouettes stark against the moonlight. Sam's arms tightened around her baby as she fled across the wide dry riverbed, a lonely black figure lost in a sea of sand. She threw herself against the vertical barrier of roots and soft earth, screaming for help. Her fingers slipped and she toppled back into the path of danger, the baby's voice joining hers over the terrifying roars growing louder by the second.

"Harry, keep going," Janeway shouted over the thundering noise. "That's an order," she added, forcibly pushing the young Ensign towards the hunched backs of people scrambling ahead of them up the slope. Only when he followed them did she turn back towards the scream.

Ignoring the deep tremors pounding under her boots, she slid down the bank and raced to where Wildman had collapsed.

"Take Naomi," Sam pleaded.

Behind the Captain, an explosion of dirty foam hit the far wall of the canyon, tearing towards them. Janeway reached out for the baby, then yanked the young woman to her feet. "This way," she yelled, "I won't leave—"

The mountain of water rushed past, taking all three in its deadly embrace.

###

Shell-shocked, the men and women greeted each other in muted voices as they emerged onto the plain above the rampaging river. Some were limping, others had deep gashes on their arms and faces from their blind flight to higher grounds. Small groups merged into larger ones, moving towards a bonfire just visible through the cloud of spray thrown up high in the night sky.

Chakotay walked among them, leading them to the warmth of the fire and doing a quick roll call at the same time. As more people reached the beacon he'd lit, his alarm grew.

"Ayala," he asked, recognising his friend among the latecomers, "have you seen the Captain and Tuvok?"

"Weren't they both staying with Kim and Torres' group for the night?" The younger man looked around. "I don't see them either. They were sleeping downstream from us. Might take them longer to reach us, that's all," he said.

He took on the exhausted people huddling around the fire. "What do you want me to do?"

Chakotay squeezed Ayala's shoulder in a silent thank you. "Find Kes and see to the wounded," he answered, breathing a bit easier. "Also, get an idea of what gear we've managed to save."

There was no point trying to search for people in the dark, he thought. They would see the bonfire and make their way in their own time. Janeway was most probably staying with the slower crew members, helping them towards safety.

He just wanted to cast his eyes over her and hear her telling him she was fine with that light smirk of hers. She'd already gently berated him when he'd tried, unsuccessfully, to make her more comfortable during the cold nights.

A few days after they were stranded, she had taken to staying with a different group each night, reassuring them and supporting their leaders during the long trek across the inhospitable planet. In the mornings, he met with her and Tuvok for a quick discussion on where to go, but he missed their evenings together talking about anything but their predicament, soothed by the warmth of her voice and that of her body close to his.

A cry pulled him out of his recollection.

"Commander, I can't find Captain Janeway," Harry Kim called, the words tumbling out as he rushed towards Chakotay. He was covered in mud, his uniform sleeves and legs ripped to shreds. "We heard the alarm and started to gather the others and run. There was this scream behind us, a woman I think. The Captain turned back. I haven't seen her since."

Kim looked around as if he was expecting to see Janeway's comforting smile any minute now.

Torres was following close on the young man's heels. "I saw Tuvok and a few other people run towards the north bank," she said, hands on knees, catching her breath. "She must have gone with them."

Chakotay simply nodded, not wanting to add to the young man's worries. B'Elanna had to be right. He did not want to think that the latest disaster to befall the crew had also grabbed Janeway in its clutches.

"Yes, of course," Kim said, his back straightening. "Sorry, it's just… I think I'll go and help Neelix, then." Still dazed, he moved off without waiting to be dismissed.

Chakotay looked across the bucking waters. In the darkness and heavy mist, he could not make out the far-off shore.

They had been following the dry river bed for a few days, finding fresh water underneath the sand and shade from the gnarled trees growing on the banks. Food, although not plentiful, was easier to dig up than on the barren plain.

The respite had not lasted. During the night, a far away storm had fallen onto the parched land, feeding rivulets and gullies until a wall of muddy water mixed with whatever it had scoured off on its careering travel had surged upon the night camp. The deep rumble rushing down towards them had been their saviour, giving the sentries a few minutes to ring the alarm and the rest of the crew time run to higher grounds.

They would have to wait until dawn to contact whoever had made it to the other side of the river, he thought.

B'Elanna put her hand on his shoulder. "We'll find them," she said. "We'll find them all."

###

The small bundle squirmed under her arm, wailing. The woman held it close, and hitched herself on the shore, dragging her throbbing leg behind like a rag doll. Inch by inch, she freed herself from the cold water's hold until the river stopped shaking the earth behind her. Breathing heavily, she laid on her back, the baby tight against her chest.

The stars above weaved a pattern she did not know. She was not sure why it was important to look up, why it was something she had done before.

The baby was still making its discomfort known. The face of a woman with blond hair came to her mind, her features distorted by fear. It disappeared as quickly, pulled back into a roaring jumble. She had no recollection of how she had come to be caught in the dangerous waters.

A flicker caught her attention, pins of light bobbing among clouds laden with the heavy scent of loam. Her fingers hit the left side of her chest as if expecting help to come from the gesture, but finding nothing.

The four humanoids approaching her were covered in animal skins and woolly blankets, long dark hair framing furrowed features she did not recognise. She had expected others to come, people clad in the same smooth black fabric as her tattered clothes, although the memory of who they might be eluded her.

She used her good leg to prop herself in a sitting position. A small wizened man shoved the end of a blazing torch in her eyes, barking incomprehensible sounds. She turned aside, putting her body over the baby to shield it from the dripping tar. Strong hands prized her arms open, and the wrenching left her with a cold pit in the chest.

She called out, but only hoarse and indistinct sounds came out of her throat. The bundle passed from hand to hand, wet clothing discarded until the baby's pale skin glowed among a circle of flames. Cackles and laughs filled the air while the baby protested the latest insult thrown at its short life. Its wails turned into small sobs. A high-pitched voice rang out. The sobs stopped, replaced by the satisfied gurgles of a feeding infant.

The old man planted the torch in the sand and sat on his heels, his hand clasping a strong staff. She held his gaze, momentarily reassured of his good intentions towards her young charge. Leaning over, he brought his hand to her temple, then withdrew it, blood coating his fingers. She copied his motion, wincing as she probed the cool muck mixed with grit that covered the left side of her head, from the eyebrow to behind the ear.

Roiling dirty water and sharp boulders flashed in her mind, tumbling waves carrying her and the baby away from... from ... . The thought shattered, thwarting her attempt to recall something, anything.

The gurgles slowed. A small burp was met with more laughs. Then, the humanoids started to walk away, taking the baby with them. Panicking, the woman pushed herself up. The ground underneath and the stars above shifted. She collapsed, close to blacking out.

Hard fingers continued to prod her body, bringing her other injuries to light. Dark eyes watched her inhale sharply as the old man poked the side of her chest, then moved to her broken leg. She recognised the tell-tale pain from past accidents she did not remember.

At a shout from the old man, a tall shape came running back from the shadows. His face was smoother but stronger looking, a mature adult compared to the frail elder, the woman thought. The two men made more noises, the taller one pointing to the departing group, the older one sounding sharp and authoritative. She had no idea what was going on, and tried once again to stand up. The old man pushed her down while the younger one dropped at her side, holding her upper leg with his strong dark hands, just above the knee.

The old man bent over and grabbed her ankle. He pulled and twisted, and she screamed until darkness mercifully claimed her and she felt nothing.

###

"It's been three weeks since the Kazon have taken Voyager and still you say you don't have enough ships. If we'd attacked then, we would have had a chance to get the crew and Voyager back." Paris paced the small room.

Weeks of searching for help had yielded nobody brave enough, or stupid enough, to stand up to the Kazon-Nistrim and their shiny new ship. Only Neelix' people had not laughed at him or tried to steal the shuttle. That did not mean they were bending backwards to help him.

"We will not commit suicide, Lieutenant," the Talaxian Commander said, hands flat on the table.

"When Neelix contacted you, you agreed to help. I've been holding you on that promise, but you've done nothing."

"We promised our assistance before your ship got captured. You were very lucky to escape at the time but our freight ships and your shuttle are no match for the Kazon fleet with Voyager added to it. We are a mining colony, not a military base. My position here is purely for security reasons."

"Commander Paxim, if you don't do something soon, the Kazon will attack every single Talaxian outpost in the surrounding systems. They could do some real damage when they turn against your people."

Paxim sighed heavily. "I realise that, but against that combined fire power, we do need more ships. It has been taking more time that I thought to convince the commanders of the other colonies to see the urgency of the situation, but we are making progress."

Paris wanted to shout and scream at the Talaxian, but he could hardly go to war without allies.

He could not believe the entire crew had disappeared without a trace, but there had been no news about them on any of the planets and dingy trade stations he'd visited. Surely by now, somebody on the ship would have managed to escape or turn the tables on the Kazon.

What was the Captain doing? he asked himself.


	2. Two People

The search party staggered up the steep slope, drawing on their last reserves of strength to make it back to the camp.

Ayala ran towards the two men leading the small team. “Chakotay? Tuvok? Did you…?”

“We found Mort and Cavendish. We buried them,” Chakotay said, his face drawn by fatigue and hopelessness. He turned away, his shoulders sagging.

Tuvok was feeling only slightly less drained than his commanding officer. “We searched the banks for many kilometres downstream until we were stopped by a large waterfall we could not negotiate. We saw no others. The devastation from the flash flood is substantial. It is conceivable the rising water levels have erased all signs of the Captain and young Wildman reaching the shore.”

He did not see fit to add that the likelihood of anybody surviving the massive surge of water and detritus which had hit the campsite was very slim. The bodies they’d discovered lodged among broken trees the size of starship girders had hardly been recognisable.

“What have you done with them?” Chakotay shouted at the brown waters churning below the cliff, a few feet away from the two men.

Ayala made a move towards his friend, but Tuvok’s strong hand stopped him.

“How is Ensign Wildman faring?” asked the Vulcan.

The younger man swallowed, then followed Tuvok’s lead and left his friend to his sorrow. “Physically better. Kes has managed to bring her fever down, but she is very distraught, as is the rest of the crew.”

The Vulcan nodded his understanding. It was unfortunate the Kazon had seen fit to strand the crew on an unknown planet with no medical help and no ship. It was in dreary circumstances such as those that the Captain’s leadership and compassion shone the brightest. The crew needed Janeway’s words of encouragement. He himself had drawn some of his fortitude from hers in the past three weeks. Her belief that Lt Paris would come back with help had never wavered, even when Tuvok had pointed out that the probability the pilot had escaped the Kazon ships and would get help was extremely low.

“I have every confidence that if somebody can pull off a miracle, Tom is our man,” Janeway had said, while she and Tuvok were making their evening round among the groups of people huddled around small camp fires.

“Miracles are hardly a proven basis for good planning, Captain. Our knowledge and skills are what will help us through the days and weeks ahead,” he had countered. “See this arrow that Mr Ayala made for me based on my instructions. It will fly true because of his expert technique and my knowledge of archery, not because we are hoping a miracle will propel it to its intended target.”

Janeway took the arrow in her hand and lined it up with her eyes. “The craftsmanship is superb. The shaft is straight and well balanced. The four vanes will help stabilise its flight. I would have used three to reduce drag, but the result is the same. Weapons like these will see us in good stead over the days ahead.”

She gave him back the arrow and excused herself. Putting her hand on a crewman’s shoulder, she spent a few minutes thanking him for helping his companions during the day. Tuvok watched as the man’s face lightened and his back straightened when they departed.

“However,” Janeway said, making her way to another group, “there is more to survival than knowing how to light a fire, string a bow, or make a spear go further, old friend. And while you might be right that the odds are not in Tom’s favour, I want to make it clear to everyone that we expect to be rescued and that we are not stuck here for the rest of our lives.”

She turned towards him, out of earshot from others. “Our job is to survive until help arrives, but what the crew needs foremost is a sense of hope.”

On this note, she’d left him to seek Chakotay’s advice on sending out scouting parties the following day.

While it was fitting of the Captain’s character and will that she had disappeared, presumed dead, while attempting to save the life of their youngest crew member, it did not make the loss of both his friend and that of baby Naomi any less disquieting. The river had taken an exacting toll, leaving the survivors diminished in both numbers and spirit.

Now, four days after the flash flood, Tuvok watched as Chakotay contemplated the canyon they’d escaped by the barest of margin.

“Anything else to report?” the Vulcan asked Ayala who had been waiting at his side, his face forlorn.

“While you were away, we dried the meat from the animal carcasses we found and cleaned up their stomachs to carry water. We’ve also made new bows, and replaced the spears and some of the tools,” Ayala said, adding, “it’s getting cold.”

The storm had heralded a turn in the weather. The hot days they’d faced during the first weeks of their sojourn had gone, the chill of the night now stretching well into mid-day. Winter was rushing at them like the flood which had grabbed their comrades.

Crew members were approaching, having heard of the return of the last rescue team.

“What are your orders, Commander?” Tuvok said in a loud voice.

Chakotay unclenched his fists and breathed in slowly. He had held up hope over four frantic days of searching for any flash of red over black, his eyes alert to minute clues the Captain and the baby had made it alive. But now the time had come for the decision he had so far avoided.

He knew what Janeway would have done. What she had done every time this planet from hell had taken one of their own away — Hogan killed by that beast in the caves, Smithy and Arkantel who had fallen into a lava flow. She had made it clear that the crew would not be split up. That despite their losses, they would remain together to look for for a better place while waiting for a rescue.

Taking off on another search which might well last for many more days or even weeks would leave the others too vulnerable in this treacherous land. His job was to stay with the crew, but asking them to remain in this desolate place was no longer an option. His duty lay south, away from the river, away from the woman he had come to regard as a part of himself.

He walked back to the men waiting for him. “We’ll move out tomorrow morning.”

“The Captain is resourceful,” Ayala said quickly. “If she and young Naomi are safe, she might return here. We should leave signs at regular intervals to indicate where we are going. In any event, we will be travelling slow and she might catch up with us.”

Chakotay said nothing. After finding the other two crew members, their corpses bloated and torn apart, all he had wanted to do was to save her body from rotting under a foreign sun. He had not even been able to do that.

He was the last to leave the dreaded place, committing the surroundings to memory before turning around, following the dust raised by the one hundred and thirty people who counted on him. His eyes doggedly surveyed the chain of smouldering mountains stretched along the far south.

###

The woman hobbled, tracking the group of people who had taken the baby from her. They left plenty of signs of their passing: upended rocks, footprints in the mud, the sharp smell of stale urine where they relieved themselves. She saw all those and trudged past.

Her world narrowed to the sound of shuffling feet onto gravel, the feel of the rain on her back, the hunger at her heels. From time to time, she stopped, eyes closed, hands tightening around the solid staff she’d found thrust in the sand at her side, mornings before. The skull-splitting nausea faded away to a low throb, and her eyes re-opened, reflecting the daze of her mind. Except for shadowy images she did not understand, finding the baby was the only goal that ruled her thoughts.

By the time she stumbled into the natives’ empty camp, it was early afternoon. She found half a burnt fish among the cold coals and devoured it eagerly. Then she hoisted herself up and walked some more until dusk then night came, and soon she could not see beyond her hand.

Exhaustion and pain led to an uneasy sleep, fragments of black and red clothing and grey smooth walls pervading her dreams. A face lingered, worried dark eyes with charcoal markings on the side of the forehead. Wisps of a name came to her lips, but it was gone from her mind when she woke up, shivering.

She was on her way by dawn.

The family group was moving slowly south-west, she noted without analysing where her knowledge came from. She followed in their footsteps. She lived, she walked.

Every day, the coals of the camp fire she came across were a little warmer. She ate the overcooked roots and charred meat from among the refuse, picked up an abandoned shawl with more holes than thread. Discarded skin of small animals became footwear to replace boots she did not remember losing in the river. She collected sharpened stones rejected by their makers, building herself a small trove of tools.

Her chest healed, and the head wound stopped weeping. The dizziness abated, although headaches still blindsided her from time to time, churning her stomach.

She started to put some weight on her injured leg. At first, she had to rest every few steps, the harsh pain a reminder the break was too new. But soon only a marked limp gave any indication the bone was not healing straight.

The urgency to see the infant took over and she hurried. The baby was her responsibility even as the others, the ones she’d been following seemed to have better catered for its needs. She wondered if she was even its mother, her body giving no clues she had given birth or fed a baby recently. When prodding her past, she repeatedly bumped against walls of deep fog, blind beyond the past few days.

One late afternoon, she paused at the top of a low hill, the setting sun illuminating the vast plain at her feet. The light wind carried the smell of cooked meat and a thin band of smoke revealed where the group had settled for the night. She had caught up with them after ten long days walking alone.

They stared as she limped into their camp. The two women moved behind the man who had held her down many nights before. He picked up a spear and let out a challenge, his wide chest thrust forward. She held her ground.

The elder man put his hand on the spear, pushing it down while berating the younger male. He then walked towards her, arms opened and empty handed. When he reached her, he shook her shoulders, grinning. Sounds flowed out of his mouth and wrapped around the woman’s head. She took no notice of them, oblivious to their meaning.

The man beckoned and one of the women came forward, smiling shyly. She carried two babies in a backpack, one with dark skin and hair, the other one with wide blue eyes and three small knobs on the forehead.

The woman with no name and no past held out her hand and touched the warm soft cheek, tears running down her face.


	3. Bounties

The large animal pivoted on its middle set of legs at a speed which took the hunting group by surprise. The man closest to the armoured head let out a cry as he found himself thrown in the air. Screams and an array of stones distracted the beast long enough for him to scramble to safety, and he put his hand up to let the other men and sole woman know he was all right.

The rhinoceros-like animal slowed down, its bloodied flanks heaving, an arrow hanging from an eye socket. The woman came from its blind side and hit it on the head with a heavy club. Its front legs collapsed, then it fell on its haunches. An avalanche of blows soon ended its life. Behind it, three smaller animals laid dead, spears poking from their tough hides.

"You're okay Chakotay?" Breathing heavily, B'Elanna slumped down near her friend, letting the others cut the meat off the carcasses with flaked stones and sharpened bones.

"Winded, but I'll live," he answered, flexing his upper torso. "That animal was a tough one."

"Not worth you getting hurt," B'Elanna said, watching him from the corner of her eyes. He was lean and tanned underneath the grime, but she could see the tell-tale signs of hunger in his hollow stubbled cheeks and bony hands. A couple of small gashes bled on his forehead. B'Elanna knew she looked as weary and filthy as he did.

"You are taking too many risks, old man."

"We've got many mouths to feed, B'E. These beasts won't last long."

"True, but thanks to you, they'll make a pleasant change from slithering worms and the few berries Neelix and Kes think won't make us sick or worse."

She shuddered, remembering Trevalla's painful death to the poisonous fruits he'd thought were safe to eat.

"I saw some tracks this morning," Chakotay said, pointing west.

He was often gone from morning to dusk, retracing the crew's steps or scouting their flanks for kilometres around, leaving the exploration ahead of the group to Ayala and Tuvok. That day, he'd come across the large beasts and had returned early to get help in bringing them down.

"More animals like these ones?" B'Elanna asked with little enthusiasm. She had welcomed the break from her day's chores and joined the hunt. Now that the adrenaline of the chase was dissipating, she was starting to feel nauseous at the massacre.

Chakotay shook his head. "No. People. Difficult to say how many. Ten, twelve maybe. They were travelling fast, moving parallel to us."

"Ayala thought he saw smoke yesterday's afternoon, but not the usual volcano smoke. Do you think we should expect trouble?" B'Elanna asked, scanning the environs.

"If I was one of the locals, I wouldn't be too happy so see a large group of people like ours trampling all over my hunting grounds. Our presence is making too much of an impact," he said, waving at the eviscerated animals.

Flying insects the size of bumblebees were already buzzing around, the smell of stomach gases and spilled blood rising in the chilly air.

'We need to eat, Chakotay," B'Elanna said, knowing he was profoundly unhappy with what the planet was forcing them to do. The crew left a wide trail of destruction behind them, cutting down trees and uprooting bushes for their fires, eating everything in sight and draining water holes.

"We are hardly surviving as it is. We don't have a choice," she continued.

"We should contact these people. Convince them we are no threat and share knowledge."

_And ask the question you want an answer to, Chakotay. An answer which is fading away the further south we walk._

"Tuvok won't be too happy," she said instead.

Chakotay looked at her, frowning in obvious confusion.

"The Prime Directive. You know, the one the Captain invoked before stranding us in the Delta quadrant," she explained, suddenly feeling very tired of the whole situation.

His eyes narrowed. "What are you saying, B'Elanna?"

"Just what I've heard." She glanced around. _Me and my big mouth_.

"Heard where? What?" Chakotay stood, looming above her.

"Well, some are saying that if the Captain hadn't followed the Prime Directive so… "

The word 'zealously' came to her mind, but she valued her life. "So closely, we wouldn't have found ourselves marooned on this planet."

"If I remember, she saved the Ocampa, or does anybody think we should have let the Kazon exterminate Kes' people so we could get home a bit faster?" Chakotay said with a warning in his voice, arms crossed.

"No, of course not. Empty stomachs are making people say things, I suppose." B'Elanna got up and kicked a few stones with her boots. She was getting pissed off at the planet, the flies, everything.

"When we get back to camp, I want the team leaders to meet with me before the meat is distributed. We need to stamp out these talks before somebody else thinks we can just abandon all we stand for."

"Why, Chakotay? What for?" she said, annoyance rising. "Don't get me wrong, I'll do whatever you want me to do, but if you are going to talk to the troops this evening, you better be prepared for what many have to say."

"Go on." His deep voice rumbled.

"This is hardly Starfleet country. If we are going to stay here for the rest of our lives, some say we've got to rethink a few things."

"Such as?" He'd gone all cold on her, something that made her recoil more surely than his anger. A frosty Chakotay was not something she wanted to see at close range.

"Like keeping all of us together for one. The one ship, one crew isn't working down here. It would be better if we were divided into smaller groups, more spread out, don't you think? To start with, we wouldn't be scaring half of the planet's wildlife away."

"Split up the crew? How interesting," Chakotay's voice dripped contempt. "What else is being talked about behind my back?"

"Don't, Chakotay," she warned. "If you stayed with the rest of us instead of …"

"Spit it out, Torres."

"Instead of chasing a ghost," B'Elanna hissed. "She's dead. Nothing is going to bring her back."

He stared at her for a few seconds then spun on his heels and was gone.

###

Hardly breaking her pace, the woman shoved her staff underneath a small rock, grabbed a handful of fat juicy larvae and crunched them between her teeth as she walked on. Taking a well-chewed glob from her mouth, she pushed it gently between the baby's lips. The infant's eyes went wide. She moved the new food around her toothless gums, tasting the nutty flavour. A faint scowl marred her forehead at first, then she swallowed in earnest.

Smiling, the woman put the hood back over the baby's head to protect it from the rain, and followed the noise ahead of her. The others were pushing through a dense thicket of low bushes, picking shrivelled berries. Observing the women attentively, she savoured the tart tang of the dried fruits while leaving the plump ones well alone. Her hunger from the early days was a thing of the past as the land shared its bounties with her.

The days were getting shorter and colder, she'd noticed. However, the small group travelled in a leisurely manner, making their way towards a chain of volcanoes growing slowly at the edge of the flat rocky plain they'd been crossing since she'd caught up with them.

In the evenings, they stopped early, roasting the small animals they'd caught by hand, and the roots and fungus they'd gathered. The adults relaxed and talked among themselves, often laughing.

The elder had tried to include the strange woman in their conversations and teach her their language. He'd soon realised that she took no notice of the sounds they made. Words held as little meaning for her as the rain or the wind, so they resorted to simple gestures when addressing her, exaggerating them for her benefit. There was pity in their gaze when they chatted about her, but they generously accepted the stranger with eyes like the sky and hair the colour of sunset, among their midst.

Her strange-looking baby was an endless font of curiosity for all the adults. Both babies were passed from hand to hand as the need arose to feed them or clean them, or just make them giggle. The young mother was eager to relieve her heavy breasts, and the two infants thrived — warm, fed and loved, despite the cold and rain mixed with ash from the mountains now standing proud over them.

At night, the family group slept together, huddling close to the fire, limbs tangled underneath a mass of furs. The red-haired woman kept herself apart, a deep feeling of loneliness and loss she could not express leaving her awake, the infant snug against her chest. Deep in her heart, she knew this baby was not hers.

The days flowed one into another. The woman grew strong and wiry. Using skills her hands remembered from a past she knew nothing about, she fashioned a bow and arrows with the tools she'd collected, practising while she walked. The others gave her a wide berth, distrustful of the innovative weapon and her uncertain aim.

She learned to read the land, listening to the call of a bird-like creature flying high in the clouds, observing the mounds of seeds gathered by fat scurrying animals preparing for winter. Her first kill brought a sense of achievement that felt familiar and comforting.

The young man moved away when she brought the stiff body back to the camp. She prepared it and ate it alone, licking the hot fat off her fingers. Leaving half of it, she was not surprised when it was all gone the following morning. The older man gave her a wry smile as they left camp.

The day started with clear skies with no clouds in sight, a rare break from the monotonous drizzle that imparted a perpetual gloom to the landscape. The young mother pointed out three straight smoke pillars rising far to the east. The elder watched for some time then shook his head and the family continued their trek towards the mountain chain.

Hand over brow, the woman looked into the rising sun, wondering for the first time since she'd found herself on the bank of a raging river, if there were others huddling around bonfires at night, and what they might look like. She longed to go and investigate but the fidgeting baby reminded her of her responsibility to its young life. She lifted her staff and followed the small group into the foothills.

###

"I can send a message to the EMH, using a fake Kazon signal," Paris explained, realigning the shuttle long range communication unit. "If he can disable the backup phaser power couplings, they'll overload once we take out the primary couplings."

"We need to wait for Voyager to be isolated from the rest of the Kazon-Nistrim fleet. I've sent a message to my counterpart on Prema I. A few more days, Lieutenant, and the Kazon will become very busy. That will be our chance. In between times, let me see those schematics again," Paxim said.

Paris settled his lanky frame behind the shuttle conn console. A few more days. And then what? What if the whole crew was dead? It'd been too long.

 


	4. Fissures

"I say, we attack them now before they attack us," Anth'Ol slurred, his mouth half buried into a chunk of blood-red meat dripping with fat.

"Well, good luck catching them." Clara Highweather shrank away from the surly man.

"What would be the point of that? What I'm saying is let's hit their camp. They'll have more food than we've got, that's for sure."

"It's not like you know how to track them, do you Anth'Ol. Looks like they're pretty quick on their feet."

"They've got the brains of a Neanderthal. They don't even have bows and arrows, or spear throwers like we have." Anth'Ol threw the bone behind him and leaned over the fire to grab another lump of sizzling meat.

Clara's face crumpled with disgust. "Can't say I've ever seen you using a bow. You are a disgrace. Always whingeing about going hungry, and never getting off your arse and doing something about it."

The man clumped his greasy hand hard on her arm and whispered, bits of fat and gristle stuck in his beard.

"Jonas was at a team leader meeting this afternoon. Chakotay and Neelix have gone all chummy over the natives they've met. Chakotay said nobody should approach them so as to not contaminate their culture. As if they've got one. Anyway, seems their camp is only five kilometres from here, over that hill. Nothing stopping us from having a look ourselves in a couple of hours, when the sentries are nodding off."

"You wouldn't be game." She unplucked his fingers one by one and brushed her arm off.

"Ah well, if you prefer to stay here and be fed the scraps the officers leave behind, be my guest."

"I don't see how killing the natives is going to get us more food," she said, uncertain.

There were rumours going around that the hunters were keeping much of the food for themselves. And most of the hunters were Voyager's officers, helped by the natives they'd met two days before.

"Well, there'd be less competition for a start. Chakotay is letting them keep most of what they kill. So, there's less for us. More to the point, though…"

She could see a malignant smile spread on his face in the flickering light of the camp fire. "What?"

"Well, Jonas was saying the way Chakotay explained it, it's a family group. One old chief, his adult sons, and their women."

"You are disgusting, Anth'Ol." She made to stand up.

"No, not for that, Highweather." He rolled his eyes. "I wouldn't touch them with a barge pole. They must be as revolting and filthy as the guys. What I mean is that we could use them to get food for us."

"Why would they do that?"

Trust Anth'Ol to have the most stupid ideas. Clara did not know much about Starfleet, but she'd always wondered how the guy had landed a job in Engineering. No wonder Torres had relegated him to the dirtiest tasks.

"No choice. The way I see it, we bring the females here, and send the males away to hunt. When they come back, the females can cook the food. Less work for the likes of you and me."

"Fancying yourself as a slave master now?"

There was merit in what he was saying though. She was getting sick of fetching wood, skinning and cooking whatever the hunters brought back. Just because she did not want to hunt didn't mean she had to do their dirty jobs for them. If they killed it, they could as well prepare it too.

"Heh, it's not like the natives are real people. They're hardly a pretty sight."

She had to agree with that. She'd been part of the original group that had met the natives. The combination of animal furs and matted hair looked pretty awful, and they stunk to high heaven. Then there was the corpse they'd come across a few days back. The natives did not even bury their dead, just left them to rot on top of a few rocks. Chakotay had forbidden touching the tools and weapons left at the side of the body, but she'd seen the well-made spears in the hands of some of the crew. Those guys must have doubled back and served themselves, she thought.

Not that the dead did not need any of their stuff. Hogan, Mort, Cavendish —they hadn't left much behind from what she'd heard. Some, like Janeway, had vanished without a trace. A pity about the baby, but she'd never liked the Starfleet woman. Too confident and pushy, ordering everybody around as if she was still the captain even after Voyager had disappeared back in space leaving the crew behind.

"How long do you think we'll be staying on this bloody planet?" she asked wistfully.

"How long?" The man guffawed. "You and me and everybody else aren't going anywhere, lass. It's not like Paris is ever going to come back. Probably sold the shuttle the minute he set foot on a civilised planet."

Paris had never given her the time of day, but she'd always fancied his rogue charm. "Just because that's what you would have done—"

"Forget about him. It's been two months. He's gone."

"The Captain said he'd be back."

"Give me a break. She was in cuckoo land that woman, all about this principle and that, and sticking to Starfleet rules and keeping us all together like we were kids. It's all her stupid fault we're trapped down here, living like savages," the man said.

He wiped his mouth with his forearm. "Nobody's going to come and save us, and that's how it is."

Clara helped herself to a second serve of meat, choosing a well-cooked piece. Chakotay had not been too happy about the decision to split the crew, she'd heard, but it had made sense, and since then the hunters had been more successful. Runners made sure the three groups kept in contact every couple of days so it wasn't like the others had disappeared into the wilderness.

This land was made for those who had the sense and strength to survive and she wanted to be one of them. Maybe it was time for a few daring men and women to upset the status quo. She was tired of never knowing if there would be enough food for her next meal, while walking towards nowhere.

"Who else's coming?" she asked, tucking in.

###

Eyes closed, the woman floated in her own private womb, one hand safely holding the naked baby sprawled between her breasts.

In the early morning, she'd left the others to go hunting, and found the hot springs while exploring a hidden gorge. After skinning the game she had killed, the warm water beckoned. Slipping off the heavy and smelly furs, she undid the knots of a thinner soft grey cloth wrapped around her upper torso, the last remnant of a life that came to her only in fractured dreams.

She cautiously dipped a calloused toe in the glassy surface of the pond. Her stomach was flat, the muscles of her legs and arms firm and well-defined after weeks spent walking. Only a slight bow marked the break in the lower leg.

Goosebumps spread on her pale skin. She lowered herself in the spring, wincing as the mineralised water made its way into the many scratches she'd collected during her journey. When she was reassured the water was safe, she unwrapped the baby. The infant kicked its legs happily, splashing her with its chubby arms. She laughed at its antics but soon the warmth and her gentle nonsense sing-song voice lulled it to sleep.

Her head slowly dropped under the opaque water until only her face and her chest with the baby on top poked into the swirls of vapour above the warm pool. Nimble fingers caressed her hair, untangling the heavy mane and letting it spread under water. She avoided touching the long gash on the side of her head, where the skin was paper thin and her hair had not regrown.

A hand slid over her collarbone, played leisurely with an erect nipple, then stroked the skin of her stomach. It then dipped lower, and the same face that inhabited dreams of another place came hovering to the surface of her awareness, brown eyes brimming with kindness and laughter, lips turned upwards.

The man's voice, firm and compelling, was calling to her. She stilled her hand. The others were always making sounds with their mouths and as the days passed, she'd strived to break through the fog of her mind to understand their importance.

Nothing happened. She sat up on the far edge of the pool, hitching the startled baby on her thighs.

It was as if there was another 'her' teetering at the edge of her consciousness. Somebody who knew the stars, wore strange clothing, lived in a place of wonders, and made powerful tools and weapons. Who perhaps shared her body with the man in her dreams, as she'd seen the people she travelled with do and manifestly enjoy during the long evenings around the campfire.

Maybe that person so familiar and yet so alien had a family of her own, people who knew and loved her. She clasped the baby tightly, tears dropping on its head. She did not know if she was crying for the lonely woman with no past and no language, or for the wise and clever one, prisoner of her damaged mind.

After a few minutes, the infant started to squirm, impatient to return into the warm water. The woman wiped her eyes and gave it a last hug. She then pushed herself into the middle of the pool for a last dip, checking the baby's skin and hair for biting insects and stubborn dirt.

The steam had grown thicker as the air cooled in the late afternoon, and stillness surrounded her. It was time to search for the others before dusk made finding their tracks and camp site impossible.

As she waded towards the edge of the pool, she heard rustling in the bank above her. A dozen lightly-built humanoid shapes rushed silently past, spears and clubs in hand. The woman sank noiselessly back into the milk-coloured water until only her eyes showed above the surface. The baby remained thankfully silent, alert to its minder's uneasiness.

Red streaks ran down the naked grey bodies, and strings of bloodied humanoid skull tops, large claws and canine-like teeth circled their waists on leather thongs. The males sported sparse facial hair, and eyes gleaming in the middle of large charcoal circles. The females with small adolescent breasts wore the same trophies and excited look. The fog closed behind them as if they were wraiths.

Hearing no more sounds, the woman quickly made her way to where she'd left her furs and weapons. Without slowing down, she dried the baby and hitched it on her back, then hobbled up the slope as fast as she could, her heart racing.


	5. Ghosts

Jonas made a squeaky noise, his windpipe crushed by Chakotay's hand. Clara rocked on her feet, seeking to put some distance between her and the two men.

“Do you have something to say, Highweather?” Chakotay kept his attention on Jonas.

“No sir.” She stiffened, her eyes firmly fixed ahead.

“Are you sure? Because after I finish with this excuse for a man here, it will be your turn.”

Clara glanced at Tuvok who remained impassive. She was not certain, but he did look bored.

“So, I am asking again,” Chakotay said with a hard smile. “Whose idea was it to bind the sentries and go on a little foray outside the camp?”

The fingers tightened. Jonas’ face turned pink under his deep tan, and his eyes started to budge. Chakotay was slowly lifting him off his feet. Clara had never thought the Commander was that strong and began to fear for her own life.

“It was Anth’Ol,” she let slip.

Wheezing, the strangled man threw a shaky punch at the Commander’s head. Chakotay hit him underneath the ribs twice, then brought his face near the man’s ear.

“You are a disgrace to your rank, Jonas. One more stunt like this one and I’ll kill you myself. Is that clear, crewman?”

Jonas nodded weakly.

Chakotay opened his hand and the man collapsed on his knees, gasping for air. Clara thought Chakotay was going to spit on him. Instead he turned towards her.

“The names of the others.” Steely calm, he adjusted the remnants of his uniform sleeves.

“It was just the three of us and Poinsan, sir.”

“Ayala? Bring Poinsan and Anth’Ol here.”

It took less than five minutes to find the crew members who had made themselves scarce since their co-conspirators had been sprung.

“What’s all this about?” Anth’Ol asked, his voice cocky. He did not look at Jonas still crumpled in the dust. Poinsan said nothing.

“Highweather here just told me you were in charge of the overnight raid on Pâât’s camp,” Chakotay said, his voice loud enough to carry over to the small crowd surrounding them.

“So? Just wanted to see what the natives looked like up close.”

He turned around, arms wide and a large grin on his face. The whole Alpha group lined the centre of the camp site, happy for the break in the tedium of the last few days.

“What’s the big deal anyway? You seem to care more about them savages than your own people, Chakotay.”

Quite a few heads nodded among the spectators.

The Commander walked slowly back and forth, waiting for the man to face him again. Clara had never seen her CO acting so predatory before, even when he was interrogating a Cardassian prisoner. It was like watching a bear appraising its dinner.

“Is that just your opinion or are there others here who think the same?” Chakotay asked those assembled. He put his hand to his ear. “I didn’t hear that. Anybody who thinks I am treating you worse than the natives, please do step forward.”

Clara glanced back. Half a dozen men and women came out of the crowd, looking around to see who else was supporting them. She knew there were more people who had voiced their resentment but it seemed that a sense of self-preservation had fallen like a blanket on the remainder of the group.

“Excellent,” Chakotay said, his smile now wide. “You are going to find your suspicions well founded from now on. You are on latrine duty for the next month, in addition to your current tasks,” he said, pointing at each of the six crew members who shuffled on their toes.

“But sir, it’s not like—,” one of the women pleaded.

“Two months,” Chakotay said, stopping in front of her. She took a step back, copied by the others.

A murmur rose from the crowd. With more than fifty people in the group, the digging of the latrines in the hard soil was no small job, although the filling in at the start of each morning was even worst between the stomach-churning smells and the noxious vapours. Many had complained about the chore, but the officers had stuck to the regulation. They did not want to see hygiene standards compromised and diseases spread among the crew.

The woman opened her mouth once more but a well-placed elbow from the man at her side shut her up.

“Dismissed.”

The six turned around smartly and walked as fast as they could back to the safety of their peers.

Anth’Ol was standing at ease with a smirk still plastered on his face. “There isn’t worse than latrine duty, Chakotay. Are you going to put us four on reduced rations just to look tough?”

“I don’t think so, Anth’Ol. Not for what you and your co-conspirators have done, leaving two of the natives with broken limbs, including a woman, and their chief with burns to his back and arms.”

Some in the crowd flinched at the news.

“They got a bit twitchy, that’s all,” the man said, shrugging. “Didn’t like it when we took the food they should have shared with us.”

It had been fun to roughen up the natives. They had not had the time to reach their weapons before a few blows had quietened them down.

And he’d been right. They had plenty of food, and not just the ubiquitous tough hides and the slimy maggots he’d been eating for weeks on end. They also had bloody good spears and stone axes, which he had confiscated. Those savages could always make some more in their spare time.

The two men seized each other. The Commander radiated menace, and Anth’Ol’s grin slipped.

“For a start,” said Chakotay, his voice rising, “tell me how you know Pâât’s group doesn’t belong to a larger tribe, with people who are not going to like that we injured some of their own?”

Anth’Ol frowned. He had not thought of that. He had only ever seen the dozen of them seemingly hovering at the edge of the Alpha camp. He did not even know they had names. Pâât must have been the one who had come at him, jabbering something before a well calculated blow had tripped the large native man over the fire.

His hands went clammy. What if Chakotay was right? God knows how many natives there really were, spread all over the countryside and waiting for the night to strike.

“People who might think retributions are the order of the day. If we are lucky, they might attack the Beta or the Gamma teams instead of us. Isn’t it what you thought?” Chakotay shouted in his face. “What are you going to do when you hear your friends have been injured or killed because of you?”

The man glanced around. Clara, Poinsan and Jonas were looking at an imaginary spot far on the horizon. The crowd had grown silent behind him. Only Chakotay and Tuvok were facing him and neither were smiling.

Chakotay hovered for a few seconds, then stepped back, resuming his pacing, a feral smile on his face.

“Those savages have little time for Starfleet punishments. They are more into an eye for an eye kind of things. What do you think Tuvok?”

Sweat pearled above Anth’Ol’s brows. Chakotay wasn’t going to kill him and put his head on a spear, was he?

Tuvok was keeping a close watch on the crowd for anybody foolish enough to come to the raid leader’s help. There was unease on many faces. While he agreed the attack on the natives had been senseless and a grave act of insubordination, he was getting concerned.

Even with the help of the senior officers, the two remaining COs had not been able to counter the mounting apathy and sliding discipline standards among the crew since the Captain’s death. Chakotay’s current tactic at using raw intimidation was not only hardly becoming of a Starfleet officer but had the potential to backfire badly if the former Maquis leader went through with his veiled threats of harsh corporal punishment.

He wondered how the Captain would have treated the four crew members standing very pale in front of him. She often sought to edify those who erred, rather than punish them for the sake of blind retribution.

“If I may suggest, Commander.” He stepped by Chakotay’s side. “The natives these crew members have injured will need assistance to recover. We could attach these four crew members to see to their care.”

The two men looked at Tuvok with wide eyes. “What?” they said in unison. The other three accused kept their counsel to themselves.

“These lawbreakers must be punished, Tuvok, not given an easy way out,” Chakotay uttered.

“We cannot accept the natives among our midst because of our more advanced weapons, so the four crew members will have to stay at their camp. They’ll have to carry the injured, clean their wounds, seek to their personal grooming and hygiene, bring water and firewood, gut and skin animals the hunters bring back.”

Helping these savages? Staying at their camp? It was worse than getting trounced by the Maquis Mauler in public. Anth’Ol opened his mouth to protest.

Chakotay whirled back. “Anything you wish to say, crewman?”

Anth’Ol froze, his confidence well and truly snuffed out.

Tuvok continued. “In addition, this is an excellent opportunity to get to know these people’s customs and consolidate our relationship before we meet with others like them, no doubt much larger groups as you mentioned. The four crew members will be charged with mastering their language and seeking as much information as they can about their destination and social mores, something we haven’t been able to do yet.”

Chakotay put his hand to his forehead, not hiding his tiredness. “I don’t like it, but you are right. Something could still be salvaged from this mess. See to it, Lieutenant.”

He looked at the crew members with disgust painted on his face.

“And make sure these four idiots understand what’s at stake here. One complaint from Pâât’s group and I’ll beat them to a pulp myself, starting with him,” he said glaring at Anth’Ol.

He walked off and the crowd dissipated slowly, cowed by their CO’s demeanour.

“Thank you for saving our hides, Lieutenant,” Clara said to the Vulcan when she was sure Chakotay was gone.

“Be assured, crewman Highweather, that I did not save your hide, as you call it, for your benefit,” Tuvok said.

She could have sworn he was deeply troubled.

###

Lifeless, the brown eyes followed the woman. Above the heavy brow, the top of the skull was gone, hacked away. Below the empty gaze, a bloodied mass of teeth and shattered bones oozed over the old woman’s chest.

_Where were you when we needed you?_ the eyes accused.

The two men had suffered the same fate, the skull tops and brains missing. Their bodies were strewn among scattered coals and furs, the camp raided by a senseless and merciless force, already gone by the time she’d reached them.

_We welcomed you in our family, took care of you and your baby_. The voice of the old man trailed into the dimness.

A naked male, barely a man, was lodged between the young mother’s thighs, his grey skin a contrast against the surrounding red pool, shiny in the moonlight. The mother lay still, a spear embedded in the ribs, her hand still holding the stone she’d used to smash her attacker’s face.

_You repaid our kindness by abandoning us,_ said her frozen gaze.

The human woman pushed the grey corpse off the young mother, and searched for the dark-haired baby, before finding it a dozen paces away. Sinking to her knees, she gathered the small cold body. Its head flopped, mouth opened to the night sky. A loud tortured keening pulled at her chest and she screamed at the darkness until her throat was raw and the stars above moved along their tracks.

She dragged the four bodies side by side, and placed the dead baby in its mother’s arms. No words of farewell came to her lips as she piled stones and rocks high on top of the bloodied and mutilated corpses.

The young woman’s mate hovered at the edge of her awareness. _You never asked our names, never said thank you._

By the time dawn came, only guilt kept her from collapsing, her tears long dried and her chest mute of cries.

The baby whimpered, wanting to be fed. She gave it a few mouthfuls of barely cooked meat she first chewed to make them softer. The infant fussed, expecting a warm breast, then settled down.

_Blood was shed here, flesh eaten, lives destroyed._ _These are killing grounds, desecrated_ , the breeze whispered, carrying the stench of death.

Exhausted by sorrow and the punishing work that left her hands bleeding, the red-head woman watched the rising sun cast long shadows by the side of the four mounds. Shivering, she wrapped her arms around the baby.

_You are a stranger to our world. Leave this place. It is time for you to go and find your own people,_ said the old man _._

The murderous band with a taste for gruesome trophies had vanished towards the east, towards the large plumes of smoke she’d seen mornings before. Gathering her belongings, she set off, tracking the killers.

_Do not forget us, Kathryn._

Her name lingered in the wind.

###

“Voyager is following us into the nebula as planned. We're bringing your ship to you, Lieutenant.”

Tom smiled. _Ready and waiting_.


	6. Between Dog and Wolf

It wasn’t his fault. It couldn’t be. No way was he to blame for that evil. 

Anth'Ol ran, Highweather gasping beside him. Patol, the only survivor among his family, sprinted ahead, silent in his terror. 

A nightmare, that’s what it was. He was going to wake up back on Voyager, and this time, he would do anything Torres ordered, kiss her feet if she asked, because whatever this dream was about, it couldn’t be happening.

How far was the Alpha camp? Why had Pâât decided to move so far away from it? Couldn’t be because he wasn’t keen to stay close to Voyager crew, surely. 

It was all his fault. Poinsan, Jonas, young Pret and his brother, Pâât, his sons, his sister and her mate. All dead, massacred by a bunch of screaming ghosts that had descended on the small camp like a ravenous flock of banshees.

It was all his own bloody fault.

Anth'Ol ran.

###

Upon reaching the top of the knoll, Kathryn slowed to a halt, waiting for the agony in her leg and hip to fade, the result of the relentless pace she had forced onto herself. The trail cutting straight across the valley below had shifted north and merged with tracks coming from all directions. New groups were joining the killers she’d been following — others like them, tireless, fast running. Like the icy rain blowing across the plain, the ghosts never stopped.

The baby moaned, listless against her back.

Naomi. The baby’s name came to her, as if it had always been there. And the face of a woman, scared, screaming. Naomi’s mother. And that woman, that mother had to have a name. But Kathryn knew only two. Hers and Naomi.

It was a start. A small pitiful start which might come too late to save the baby.

With winter now upon the land, the big fat larvae they had enjoyed just a few weeks before were hidden deep into the ground, out of reach. Most of the berries had disappeared, and the few roots Kathryn could identify as edible were too shrivelled to make a satisfying substitute for breast milk. Naomi needed help she could no longer provide.

She focused her eyes to the east. There was only one smoke pillar now, close to the foothills. It had not moved over the past day. If the people who sat by that fire belonged to the same tribe as the family who had taken her in, they would care for Naomi. They might not accept a crippled and stupid alien among their midst, but they would surely help a defenceless baby.

If it were her own people…

Slivers of memories flashed into her exhausted mind. A young and beautiful woman with ridges on her forehead, so brave and yet scarred by life. A man with skin the colour of night, his features stern, but she knew his heart was true. More faces, young and eager, one with raven hair, the other with dancing blue eyes hiding deep regrets. A large man always at her side, his soothing soul welcoming her and his body so close she could almost melt into him.

She stumbled as more images rushed at her. Explosions against unblinking stars. Screams and smoke. A strange weapon, hot in her hand and soon discarded.

A whole crowd was surrounding her, splotches of yellow and red already covered by dust, and strange aliens, cruelty in their steps, marching them under the harsh planet’s sun. A marvellous giant bird slowly took flight, leaving her people behind, bereft.

Her heart sunk. Somehow — she did not know the how and the why — she had been the one to bring about her people’s exile. Would they resent her, push her away if she approached them for help?

She gripped her staff and started walking, turning away from the killers’ tracks. She had no choice. Naomi belonged to those people. The baby’s mother was one of them. Whoever they were, she had to let them know of the menace roaming the land, and above all, save Naomi.

###

“How many?”

“What?” The young woman was trembling, of exhaustion or of terror, he did not know.

“Clara,” Chakotay said more gently, his hand on her shoulder. “How many do you think attacked Pâât’s camp?”

“Too many. We didn’t stand a chance.”

Chakotay decided to change tack. The woman was in shock and he needed to make it simpler for her. “A larger group than Pâât’s?”

She nodded slowly. “Yes, perhaps twice as many. It’s only because the three of us were on a foraging trip that … We just … “ Her face went pale.

“You are not responsible for what happened.”

She pushed his hand away. “Those people … all grey with big black eyes, covered in blood. And they were…”

Her eyes widened. “Oh God. I thought the screams we heard were because those ghosts were killing them. But they were already dead by the time we arrived. It was those killers we heard howling.”

She dug her fingernails into Chaktay’s arm. “Pâât warned us, didn’t he, but we didn’t understand. He was afraid and now he’s dead. All of them are dead, Commander. Patol is the only one who survived.”

Chakotay exchanged a worried glance with Ayala. Pâât’s warning had been vague, talking about the land being sick, a disease coming their way. They’d never thought the threat would be blood thirsty marauders.

Highweather went on. “For each body, there were two or three ghosts hacking at them. That’s how many they were. Twenty, maybe twenty-five. More were coming from over the hills to the north. A whole bunch of them. That’s why we ran.”

“You did what you could. Thanks to your friendship with Pâât, we knew something was coming. We got the whole crew back together two days ago,” Chakotay said. “We’ve got a better chance to defend ourselves now we know what the warning was about. They might even do nothing when they see our strength.”

Anth’Ol shook his head. “I don’t think they know how to stop, Commander. They are worse than animals. What they did...”

The man was the shadow of the cocky bastard who had confronted Chakotay days before.

His eyes haunted, Anth’Ol whispered. “Those savages… they cut the top of Pâât’s skull off, put their fingers inside his head and then … licked them,” he said, his voice raw. “They ate the brains, Commander. And they were all so young.”

Chakotay held his breath. Cannibals? Young cannibals? It did not make any sense. “Ask Patol about them. We need all the information we can get.”

He hoped his questions would cushion the revulsion he could see on the faces of those present. They could not afford to lose their nerves to panic.

###

“We can assume the grey ghosts will come for us, Commander.”

The Vulcan’s distaste was almost palpable. Anth’Ol’s translation of Patol’s words was fraught with confusion but careful questioning had finally ascertained who Pâât’s attackers were and the name had stuck.

“We cannot hide from them,” Chakotay said. “Making our stand here is our best chance.”

Standing by the side of the Vulcan, he watched the hill beyond the camp limits grow hazy in the setting sun.

He’d spent the day consolidating the camp defences, setting up traps around its borders and preparing the crew. The labyrinth of caves, sandstone pillars and narrow gorges he and Tuvok had found was perfect to wear down large-scale attacks, but they needed more weapons.

He turned to leave. There was still much to do while waiting for the grey ghosts to strike.

“There is a very old Vulcan legend which bear unusual similarities to what the young native told us,” Tuvok said.

Chakotay could count on the fingers of one hand the times when the Vulcan had talked to him about something else than Voyager’s security or the crew’s duties.

He waited.

“A legend about young men and women leaving their families and their people to go and hunt dangerous animals to prove their valour.”

“A coming of age ritual,” Chakotay nodded in recognition. “My ancestors on Earth hunted jaguars for the same reason. In many parts of Europe, the custom became known as the myth of the wolf-men.”

Tuvok lifted an eyebrow.

Chakotay explained. “Adult male wolves were killed in a ceremonial manner, and their flesh eaten. Unlike on Vulcan, it was a ritual undergone by young men only. They believed they were becoming wolves themselves, displaying the animals’ strength, intelligence and endurance during the hunt and absorbing those same abilities by eating them.”

“If Mr Anth’Ol understanding of Patol’s language is correct, it seems that on Hanon, the custom has degenerated into warfare against their own,” Tuvok noted. “The future of Hanon society does not look promising if it cannot find a way to curb its young people’s appetite for ritual slaughter.”

Dusk came and the sentries disappeared into the gloaming. This was the time between dogs and wolves, thought Chakotay, between the safety of daylight and the savagery lurking in the darkness. He felt a shiver run down his back.

“Vulcan history states that the ritual died out as our children became educated in the values of logic and emotional detachment, and as a consequence learnt to control their violent tendencies.”

Chakotay reclined against the rock behind his back. Tuvok’s calm reasoning was a perfect counterpoise to his uneasiness. “Our path went a different way, according to one of our own legends.”

He had recounted a very different tale to a no less attentive listener not so long ago. What was it with pre-warp planets which brought about the telling of stories?

“One year, the leader of a small tribe brought her community together to announce she would forbid participation in the ritual. The seasons had been harsh and they could ill afford to lose their young people for weeks on end to go and hunt dangerous beasts. Bands of young men from different tribes often clashed, sometimes with bloody consequences, leading to animosity between neighbours. Maybe that’s how it all begun here too.”

He would always remember those blue eyes and splendid smile as understanding had dawned on her of how much she meant to him. Then, they had returned to Voyager and what might have happened had waned into a far away future. And now she was dead and his hopes had never seen the light of day.

He trudged on. “Elders and adults alike argued the soon-to-be men should be allowed to prove their bravery in front of danger. The leader refused to back down, arguing that the worth of a great warrior was in the survival of the tribe rather than individual daring feats. Over the following year, the adolescents stayed put, barred from leaving. More able people meant better hunting and farming, and there were also reduced conflicts with nearby tribes. Their own tribe grew stronger. Other leaders followed suit. The whole society benefited and the ritual died out.”

Tuvok remained silent for a few seconds, his features nearly invisible in the encroaching night. “That leader was perceptive and courageous to fight such an established custom.”

“Woman leaders are often wise and brave,” Chakotay said.

“Indeed, Commander. And when they are no longer with us, we do miss them.”

With those words, Tuvok left to return to his rounds.

Chakotay watched the night sky envelop the hill. Anger had taken him to a place where wolves bayed for blood, and his sanity had teetered on the edge of the shadows beyond. He had no wish to remain there since his confrontation with Anth’Ol. His tribe needed him once again, and he owed it to Kathryn to protect it to his last breath.

He pushed himself off the rock face and walked to join the rest of the crew.


	7. Reckoning

"For the past three months, we have faced volcanoes, hunger, floods, and wild beasts. We have lost friends and comrades. But we have survived and we will defeat this new threat with our skills, our will and our courage."

Chakotay stood in front of his crew, as he had done many times in another lifetime, first as the Maquis leader, then as Voyager's First Officer. The rain was making its way into his eyes, but he ignored it.

"Today, we are facing a different enemy, with no other demand of us but death itself. Many of you have rightly expressed disgust and horror at what was done to Pâât's people and our two crewmen, Jonas and Poinsan. Righteous anger may be in your minds. Who would condemn you for wanting to avenge your friends?"

The crew stood stoically at attention under the constant drizzle, a mismatch of muddy and tattered uniforms, woollen ponchos, and weapons the like of which no Federation warp-capable species had used for tens of thousands of years. He wished Kathryn could see them, their heads held high despite the odds.

"But remember what makes us Voyager's crew above all, Maquis and Starfleet alike. Captain Janeway showed us the way. She showed us that vengeance is not the solution. That we do not need to behave like our enemies to defeat them. That we can rise to the challenge of whatever is thrown at us without descending into savagery. I count on you to honour her memory by not letting this planet destroy our spirit."

The crowd erupted and pumped their arms in the air. Then Tuvok stepped in.

"Team leaders, take your positions," he said, and the crew followed.

"Nice speech, Chakotay." B'Elanna winked as she walked past him. "I never took you as a man of many words, but it worked."

He smiled back. "Good luck, B'Elanna."

###

"Doctor, I know it might come as a surprise, but I am actually very glad to see you."

"Mr Paris, welcome on board. The Kazon have abandoned Voyager. The ship is yours. What is your plan?"

"Our Talaxian friends don't want to stay any longer than necessary. Hopefully, most of Voyager systems are still working despite the Kazon and the overload we caused. I'll go and check the warp drive in Engineering. I suggest you check the sensors."

Tom's gaze rested for a second on the body of Seska lying on a biobed. "It's up to us to get the crew back."

###

"Ayala, behind you!"

The man turned on his heels and squatted in the same movement, spear raised. A young ghost impaled himself at chest height, and collapsed on top of him, gurgling blood.

Ayala pushed himself from underneath the twitching body. "It's like they're on psychotropic drugs," he said, wiping his face. "They won't stop coming at us."

The battle had been going on for a couple of hours Chakotay estimated. The grey ghosts had not expected their ritual prey to be so resilient and organised. They had changed their early attack patterns after suffering heavy losses to the various traps laid in their path.

He smiled harshly. Now the ghosts hunted in smaller groups, sneaking up and trying to kill a couple of people at a time before disappearing back into the curtains of rain. So far, the crew had been able to fend them off by retreating slowly towards the cave system, but not without experiencing many injuries.

"What's your situation?" Chakotay asked, helping his friend back on his feet.

"Kieeran and Anth'Ol were injured earlier on. I evacuated them to the main cave. Patol has disappeared. I think he's done a runner. Can't blame him, I suppose. I came back here to —."

His eyes opened wide, looking behind Chakotay's shoulder. The flint end of an arrow quavered, and a red hole opened like a spring blossom between the young woman's breasts. The ghost clawed at her own throat and uttered squelchy noises before crumpling down on the white sand. Her club bounced a couple of time, finishing its tumble at Chakotay's feet.

The two men ducked under an overhang, expecting more attacks. Screams could be heard in the distance but only the rain and their own heavy breaths crowded their immediate environs.

"Somebody is looking after you, Chakotay," Ayala said, panting.

"I thought I ordered people not to take unnecessary risks. Bloody dangerous to stay up there with no cover," Chakotay rumbled.

Before his friend could stop him, Ayala crawled to the body and yanked the arrow out, picking up the club on his way back to the overhang.

Chakotay scrutinised the small ravine but saw nothing. "Better make a move and join the others," he said.

###

"What do you mean the transporters don't work? I've got three Kazon ships on long range sensors. How are we going to get the crew off this planet before they arrive?"

The Doctor rolled his eyes and mentioned the landing gear.

###

Kathryn hurried along the top of the gorge walls, her heart beating hard. The ghosts had moved quicker than she'd thought and burst onto the people, her people, before she'd had the time to alert them to the danger coming their way.

Instinctively recognising the maze of pillars for the ambush it was, she kept harassing the ghosts from her high vantage point, silent and deadly.

The deluge came down harder, threatening to spoil her aim.

###

"It's Voyager!" The words travelled like lightning among the besieged crew.

"How can we be sure it's not the Kazon coming back?" B'Elanna called over the thunder of the ship slipping through the low clouds.

A Kazon small craft wheezed past, shooting fruitlessly at Voyager's hull. It exploded, hot red shrapnel showering the landscape.

"That answers your question," Chakotay shouted, as the ship righted itself in one elegant movement, and landed behind the hill.

"Kim, evacuate the caves. B'Elanna, Ayala, keep the injured in the middle and cover the flanks with those who still got a weapon. Tuvok and I will stay behind and keep the ghosts occupied. Don't come back for us."

###

Chakotay had hoped Voyager's arrival would have scared the ghosts but their indecision had only lasted long enough for the crew to gather themselves and start the long run towards the ship.

He picked up a spear which had missed him by mere inches, and sprinted towards Tuvok. The Vulcan was shooting at the horde pouring out from between the boulders. A couple of ghosts landed at his feet and Chakotay saw him take the time to wrench the arrows out of their bodies to replenish his fast emptying quiver.

Despite his almost mechanical aim, the ghosts kept coming, bent on overpowering their fleeing prey.

Before Chakotay could reach Tuvok, he felt the slight tingle of the ship's transporter. His momentum propelled him into the transporter main console. He clutched at the hard metal edge, his heart racing.

"It worked! I've got them both," shouted Torres. Her grimy face poked out from underneath the console, a large grin showing.

"Ensign Kim here. Everybody has been accounted for. Commander, Lieutenant, you were the last ones. Welcome onboard," the young voice said over the comms.

"Thank you, Kim. Do we owe our escape to a certain Tom Paris?" Chakotay asked with a smile.

"The one and only, Commander." Paris' voice replaced Kim's. "But before you promote me, you've got to know there are three Kazon ships coming our way. We can't defend ourselves while we are stuck down here."

"Agreed. Prepare for take-off. I am on my way to the bridge."

Chakotay's heart was still pounding at the sudden reprieve from sure death. "And thanks Tom."

The man chuckled. "Any time, Commander. Any time. Paris out."

Chakotay looked back at Tuvok who had not moved from the transporter platform. He was still holding his bow, an arrow nocked on the string. "I need you at Tactical, Tuvok."

The Vulcan released the tension on the bow, seemingly fascinated by the weapon. "Commander. This arrow is not one of ours."

"We've got more important things to worry about right now. Let's go."

Tuvok ignored him. "This arrow has three vanes rather than four, and the flint head is much better crafted than ours."

Chakotay approached him and snatched the bloodied weapon from the Vulcan's fingers.

"Looks similar to the one Ayala took from the body of a grey ghost who attacked us near the south post. A crew member must have been experimenting. But now is hardly the time to play detective."

They were still not out of the woods. However Paris had regained the ship, the Kazon were manifestly not willing to give it up that easily.

As if hearing his misgivings, Paris interrupted his thoughts. "I could really do with your help right now," he pleaded. "The Kazon will be waiting for us as soon as we reach space."

"Go to warp when we get out of the planet's gravity well, Tom," Chakotay answered as he walked towards the door of the transporter room.

"Belay that order, Mr Paris. Ensign Kim, scan for human signs outside the ship, from the landing location back to the cave system."

Chakotay whirled around, his eyes wide. "What the hell, Tuvok?"

"There is one crew member who is still missing, Commander. A crew member we never found and who prefers a three-vane fletching as she told me herself six weeks ago."

Torres was frowning, her hand hovering over the transporter off-switch.

Chakotay felt the blood leave his head. "Kim, what's with that sensor scan?"

"Running it now," came the anxious response.

###

Kathryn put an arm up to protect herself against the walls of muddy spray rising in front of her and staggered backwards, pushed away by the deep tremors and the blasts of wind.

She was too late. She'd taken too much time finding a way down to the plain once she'd seen the large bird land and the people rush out to meet it.

Except it was not a bird. It was a spaceship she realised now, watching it slowly soar into the leaden sky as if eager to shake off the planet's pull and return to its natural environment.

Once upon a time she had stood besides its crew, the same men and women who had resisted and fought the onslaught of the grey ghosts so bravely, but it did not matter any longer. For now, whatever she'd done to help them fend off their foe was of no consequence. She had squandered the opportunity to get Naomi out of harm's way and the futility of her efforts pressed heavily on her mind.

The ghosts were closing in, the rumble of their bare feet growing louder behind her.

Staff in hand, she turned to face the rushing wave.


	8. The Nature of Miracles

The blue eyes shone among the grime and heavy furs. Her auburn hair was a shade lighter than he remembered. She held a robust walking stick in her hand, bare arms bronzed and covered in scratches and thin scars. The tip of a bow jutted from the side of a backpack, the quiver empty.

His heart missed a couple of beats. She was a magnificent sight.

Kathryn watched him intently, then her gaze came onto Tuvok and Torres.

"Captain?" Chakotay asked.

There was no sign she'd heard him. She was uninjured as far as he could see, and yet she made no move to step off the transporter pad. He opened his mouth to welcome her when the faint but recognisable sound of a baby crying sounded in the small room.

His breath hitched. "Is it Naomi?"

Something flickered in the woman's eyes at the baby's name.

"Can I see Naomi?" he repeated more slowly, his hands held wide.

Janeway put the backpack down, then lifted little Naomi out with an ease and gentleness which spoke of many days caring for the infant. The baby hiccupped a few times then cooed at the woman's touch.

"Commander, have you got the Captain?" Kim's voice came over the comms.

"Yes," Chakotay answered, without taking his eyes off Janeway. She looked ... out of place, alert and yet removed from what was happening around her.

He shook his head. Kathryn was safe and that was all that counted. "The Captain brought Naomi with her. We are all back. Paris, take us out of this system."

"With pleasure, Commander. Paris out."

"Chakotay?" B'Elanna asked, her tone hesitant.

"I've noticed too." Janeway had not reacted to the conversation, as if she was deaf, but she'd heard his call for Naomi.

Unsure of how to approach her, Chakotay remained where he was, noticing the way Janeway kept the baby close to her, as if ready to defend her if anybody made an aggressive move.

B'Elanna got up slowly from behind the transporter console and moved towards the door. "I'll go and send Sam here. Better if I tell her about her daughter rather than hearing it through the comms. I'll be in Engineering if you need me."

"It seems the Captain might need some time to recover from her ordeal. I'll go and assist Mr Paris," Tuvok said, nodding at Chakotay.

On his way out, the Vulcan pondered about unlikely timing, improbable survival, and the human drive to grasp those long odds and will them to happen. The Captain had been right, as was often the case with his friend. Hope was about believing in miracles, and never letting go.

He collided with Sam Wildman who was running down the corridor.

"Have you seen her?" she asked, breathless, as he held her upright.

"Yes, Ensign. Your daughter looks fine."

"Thank you, Lieutenant. Thank you for getting her back."

"You are mistaken, Ensign. I had very little to do with bringing your daughter back." Tuvok gently directed the woman towards the transporter room before turning back to his duties.

"Sam," Chakotay moved quickly to intercept the young woman. "Don't —"

She approached him, distressed. "Is something wrong with Naomi?"

Chakotay smiled, realising he was making the situation worse. "No, I don't think so. But —"

Sam stopped when she saw who was holding her daughter. "Captain? I thought you were dead. We all thought you were dead. How did you…?"

Janeway hobbled down the transporter pad. Sam walked quickly towards her, her arms extended, tears running down her cheeks. The older woman gently placed Naomi in the young mother's arms. Only Chakotay saw Janeway's longing gaze at the small face before she retreated to where her belongings lay.

He'd never seen her look so utterly miserable. His heart went out to her.

"Look, she's smiling," Sam said, tickling the baby's chin. "She is all right."

"You better get her checked by the Doctor."

"Yes, of course. I'll go immediately. I can't thank you enough, Commander, Captain." She left the room, all the while talking to Naomi who seemed puzzled by her face and voice.

Chakotay turned back to Janeway who looked once again to have withdrawn within herself. She had not said a word since she'd appeared on the transporter pad, had hardly acknowledged his presence, or that of Tuvok and B'Elanna.

No, he thought, that was not entirely true, it was more like she did not know how to react to them. As if she was no longer sure where she stood.

Or who she was, he suddenly realised.

###

 

"Commander, I can't believe we got the Captain back on Voyager only for her to get injured again."

The Doctor waved the osteo-regenerator over Janeway's left hand. The fingers of her other hand clenched at the biobed cover.

"We visited the airponics bay and all was well. Mess hall the same. She was pleased to see Neelix. Then we got to the bridge. She went straight to her seat and then…"

"What, she hit you again?"

"No. This time, she hit the console," Chakotay said.

The last few days had seen one setback after another. As her memories reclaimed her mind, Janeway's frustration had grown, leading her to hitting whatever was closest at hand. It was as if the pain made her forget for a few seconds what she'd lost.

Satisfied with his work, the EMH put the device back on the tray and flexed Janeway's fingers one by one, watching her face to see if she was in pain. All he could see was the deep frown marring her forehead. She clearly did not want to be here. At least that part of her personality had returned, the EMH thought.

What worried him more was the fact that she didn't seem to mind people talking about her as if she was not present. His initial suspicion of deafness had been proven wrong, but the other possibility he'd been researching was even more concerning.

Janeway jumped off the biobed, nodded curtly at the two men and strode out.

Chakotay pushed his hand through his hair. "I think she's seen enough of me for a little while," he said, noticing the EMH's raised eyebrows. "Her memories are coming back, but she still doesn't seem to understand when somebody talks to her. What happened to her?"

The Doctor threw his arms in the air. "Take your pick. I treated her amnesia, but I suspect she also suffers from global aphasia, most probably combined or exacerbated by repressed post-traumatic stress when she found herself the captain of a starship crew stranded on a planet without a starship. But I am no counsellor, so what should I know."

"Doctor," Chakotay warned.

"My apologies, Commander." The EMH sighed audibly, a passable imitation of a very harried doctor.

"There isn't a single person who survived Hanon who has not suffered some sort of injury, or harboured diseases unknown to the Federation medical database. Me, in other words. The only one who lived through the whole ordeal mostly unscathed is Naomi Wildman. She was in remarkable good health apart from being slightly dehydrated. It was comforting to see her in her mother's arms."

Chakotay could still remember the heart wrenching look on Kathryn's face when she had relinquished her young charge into Sam's care. Kathryn had clearly been Naomi's mother in all but in name when everybody else had lost hope they were both still alive. Spirits knew what she had been going through just to survive.

"However, the Captain is a special case." The EMH switched on the screen of his PADD, showing some deep body scans. "She suffered multiple injuries quite a few weeks ago, most probably during the flood that took her and Naomi from what you told me. Her broken leg was reset with some skills, but impatient as the Captain usually is, she must have walked on it before it was properly mended. I had to break it again to straighten it."

Chakotay winced. Even when done under sedation, some medical treatments always sounded barbaric.

The Doctor highlighted a 3-D scan of a skull. "The Captain also suffered a massive blow to the left hand-side of the head. The main problem we are facing now is that the concussion affected the parts of the brain responsible not only for memories but also for language recognition and expression. It's not simply that she does not understand the words, Commander, she does not understand the use of language as a way of communicating. Manifestly, simple gestures are fine, but anything verbal or written is a total mystery to her."

"Could it be the natives who did that to her?" The furs had been a dead giveaway that she had met a very similar group to Pâât's but perhaps those people had been hostile towards her.

"Apart from those injuries, I have found nothing that indicate the Captain was ill-treated in any way. In fact, she is the only one with young Naomi who is showing no indication of long term malnutrition or vitamin deficiency. The rest of the crew, including yourself, need regular treatment before you all collapse at your stations and invade my sickbay again."

"We were busy evading the Kazon ships, Doctor," Chakotay said, annoyed at the comment.

He lifted his hands up to placate the EMH. "But you are right, I'll make sure to establish a roster for the crew to come and see you for their injections. More to the point, how can we help the Captain? If she can't communicate, she can't lead the ship. And she's realised that now, unfortunately."

The Doctor shut the PADD. "Indeed, Commander. On Hanon, her physical impediments were probably more a hindrance than the shortcomings of her memories or communication abilities. She remembered enough of her skills to make do. Here however, the problems are exacerbated by the demands of her position."

"Hence her frustration, and her ways to try and deal with it. I know she never really wanted to hit me the first time, but what can we do to help?" Chakotay repeated impatiently.

He scratched his jaw, still surprised not to feel the hard stubble of a beard.

"The first few days after such a head injury are crucial for recovery, but in the Captain's case, we are playing catch up weeks after the fact. The treatment to help her regain her speech will be a slow process."

"The Captain does not do slow, Doctor, when something stands between her and Voyager. We need a more drastic solution. What about a mind meld?"

The fact that the EMH did not at once discard the idea was the first indication he might finally have found a way to help Kathryn.

###

 

The single letter stood alone — _I_

Janeway pronounced the word clearly. The Doctor had said it would help her to say aloud the words she still had problems stringing together verbally. She could not go back to the bridge before she could fluently express her thoughts.

She typed.

_I am_

After the mind meld with Tuvok, she'd regained the use of the written word at a record speed, a fact that the Doctor had been unable to explain. At least, typing enabled her to communicate more easily with the crew, but she still could not talk.

She unclenched her fingers which had formed into a familiar fist. Hurting herself again would only ensure another trip to sickbay and worried glances from Chakotay.

_I am_

The two words echoed in the stillness of her quarters.

Hardly a revelation, she thought wryly. Or maybe it was _'I think I am_ ' because who was the ' _I_ ' who stood so straight and clear-cut on the screen? It fitted the captain of this mighty ship, with its brave crew and the technology of an entire quadrant to make it safely to the planet of her birth across thousands of light years.

But then, where was the traveller who had trekked on foot through a stark and unknown landscape? Who was the woman who had lived from day to day with the help of kind and compassionate people who'd carried only the most basic tools and understanding of the vast universe around them?

The memories of her stay with the Hanon family flooded her with sadness. What she remembered best were their laughter and warmth as they watched over the two babies lying side by side in the flickering light of the camp fire.

She understood now why they had taken Naomi with them all those weeks ago, and left her behind. The laws of that harsh land did not extend to caring for a badly injured stranger with a meagre chance of survival. The old man had done what he could to help though once she'd proven her will to live. She owed it to him to try again.

_I am the Captain,_ she pronounced slowly as she typed.

Was there that much of a difference between the nomad and the Starfleet captain? Between watching the stars spread over the night sky, belly full near a primeval fire, or viewing them streaking past at warp speed from her neat and clean desk?

She longed to talk about her experiences with Chakotay. He had tried to tell her about the crew's adventures on Hanon, but long sentences still tripped her up, a jumble of words that took her stupid mind much too long to unravel.

After wiping her cheek, a rare gesture she reserved for her quarters, she moved her hands once more over the keyboard.

_I am Captain Janeway._

A week back on Voyager and she'd spoken four words in a row.

She pushed herself off the chair and crossed to the window. She still expected her leg to betray her, to strand her in the middle of the room but it was straight and strong again. Not like her mind, limping through the shortest ever sentence at the speed of a land snail.

_I am Captain Janeway._

Her reflection lip-synced the same words. There were new lines at the corners of her mouth, and an almost perpetual frown which she tried in vain to relax.

She leaned her forehead against the transparent aluminium. What if Voyager was more than she could handle? The crew had not survived Hanon to chance their future with a CO who could not communicate properly. What if she could no longer be their captain?

She shook her head. One step at a time, Chakotay had said. She might not yet be the straight-back captain, everybody, including herself, expected her to be, but there was a woman behind the weary traveller, with a first name, a past outside of Starfleet, and longings for the future. A woman who had held the soft warmth of a baby against her skin; who had dreamt of strong and skilled hands stroking her body and yearned for dark eyes filling her soul.

_I am Kathryn_.

Hitting her comm badge, she spoke the words haltingly.

"Anything else you want to tell me, Kathryn?"

It took her a few seconds to decipher the meaning of his words but she knew he would wait for her.

"Come? Here?" she said, hoping for the first time in days that he would blame her hesitation on her speech impediment.

She could almost hear his grin over the comms.

"Of course," came the softly spoken answer.

When she heard the chime, she stopped pacing the floor and calmed her heart. After all, she thought, they had the whole night for her to say all the words she wanted to tell him.

 

* * *

_My greatest thanks once again to Mia Cooper for a splendid job as my beta._

 


End file.
